


heart like a kick drum

by Wildehack (Tyleet)



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-12
Updated: 2016-02-12
Packaged: 2018-05-19 23:40:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5984983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tyleet/pseuds/Wildehack
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“OW,” Finn said, and shoved Kylo back by his shoulders, as if that would get Kylo out of his head.</p>
            </blockquote>





	heart like a kick drum

**Author's Note:**

> "Anonymous asked: if you are still in a weird mind sex headcanon place of mind--i do not know why i'm so convinced that Rey would be DOPE at it--like, just instantly Gets it, to the great delight of her partner/s, in ways that it takes a while for her to get the regular version--and fuckin' ben organa would just be truly, fumblingly awful at it in every way, but i am somehow convinced of it" 
> 
> I loved this prompt so much I wrote this entire ficlet on a plane. Typing on my phone. Hunched over trying to hide my weird mindporn from the dudes sitting on either side of me. 
> 
> Clearly, the only way to highlight how good at mindsex Rey is and how bad at mindsex Ben is--is for a character who's mindfucked them both to judge.

The mission went badly awry.  
  
So awry, in fact, that when Kylo found himself bound, body and spirit, to Finn the traitor, he couldn't even bring himself to use it against the Resistance. It was the bond, of course--the curse--the malicious force that kept his soul tangled so deeply into Finn's that no one could tear them apart, not even Kylo. It was terrible. He couldn't get more than fifty feet from Finn before agony shot through his head and pulverized his gut, and nothing but Finn's touch gave him relief.   
  
The fact that Finn was just as appalled was small comfort.   
  
After three days trapped together, spent alternately trying to kill each other and nearly dying attempting escape, they'd finally come to a detente. Finn reluctantly promised to work with Kylo to break the bond, and escape their mutually assured destruction. The trouble was, Kylo had only come up with one idea thus far.   
  
Consummation.   
  
Ancient Sith artifacts tended towards perversion, that way.   
  
It took another day to convince Finn he wasn't lying, but after Kylo promised that he wouldn't actually touch him, he'd just stimulate the pleasure centers in their brains and call it done with, Finn agreed. It should have been easy.   
  
Should have been. They’d been sitting crosslegged on the bed, hard and irritated with each other, for almost an hour. Nothing was _working_.   
  
“OW,” Finn said, and shoved Kylo back by his shoulders, as if that would get Kylo out of his head.  
  
Kylo went anyway, because apparently the induced animal affection vibrating in his body meant he gave a damn about whether or not the traitor had a headache.  “ _Gently_ ,” Finn emphasized, rubbing his brow. “A very _gentle_ touch.”  
  
Kylo scowled at him. “I haven’t exactly done this before,” he muttered. Well. He had, of course, many times, but in very different contexts. Information-gathering contexts. Not–whatever this was.  
  
Finn _had_ done it before, as he seemed to take great pleasure in reminding Kylo, every few minutes. “Rey says it’s all about imagination and concentration,” he said, closing his eyes while Kylo resettled his palm on the side of his face. He had the gall to smile, thinking about _her_ while Kylo prepared to lay hands on the naked material of his psyche.  
  
“One time she made it so we were doing it on a pleasure moon from the Old Republic,” Finn added dreamily, just before Kylo went back in. “There were costumes. There were _backstories_. She was a queen, and Poe was a visiting prince, and I was a Jedi knight. She made us these silk robes that felt unbelievable against your bare skin, and-–”

“You’re not bonded to Rey,” Kylo snapped, shifting uncomfortably. Pulling Finn into a fantasy of his own creation would require a level of mental finesse that Kylo wouldn't have considered possible, if Finn weren't practically gloating with his honesty. “You’re bonded to _me_.”  
  
Finn snorted. “Hard to forget it.” He didn’t add that Rey would never have accidentally fused their minds together in the first place, but he was thinking it suspiciously loudly.

“Quiet,” Kylo ordered, rubbing his sweaty palms on his knees. “I’m concentrating.”  
  
Finn sighed and closed his eyes again.  
  
Kylo tried to focus, sending a more delicate tendril of himself out this time, seeking the pleasure centers in Finn’s mind. It worked for a second–-Finn sucked in an interested breath–-but then Kylo’s concentration faltered, and the touch skidded past pleasure and bumped into memory.  
  
_Finn, age four, learning his times tables with the créche tutor. Nine times one is nine. Nine times two is eighteen. Nine times three is–_  
  
Kylo dragged himself out, and found Finn blinking at him. “Oh,” Finn said, and laughed. “That was weird.”  
  
“It’s not exactly easy,” Kylo said, face going hot. “Your brain is—distracting. And badly organized.”  
  
“Are you trying to say it’s my fault?” Finn asked, raising his eyebrows. “You’re the one who can’t get it up.”  
  
“It’s not like that,” Kylo hissed, furious, because dammit, they had a _job_ to do. “You  _know_ it’s not like that."   
  
"Touchy," Finn said, smirking at him.   
  
"If you're not going to _help_ ," Kylo spat, "I might as well kill you. You know I could. I could reach into your absurdly sensitive mind, and I could pulverize you, leave you weak and braindead. I could crush you without ever touching you."    
  
Finn didn’t look threatened. He was rolling his eyes. “Sure,” he said, and scooted closer on the bed, bumping their knees together. “Look, just—come here,” he said, and put his hands on Kylo’s jaw, angling him in.  
  
“What are you doing,” Kylo asked, his idiotic breathing speeding up, and Finn rolled his eyes again before kissing him.  
  
It was a very nice kiss. It wasn’t anything like what Kylo had read about—the meeting of two souls, the explosion of shared feeling and sensation, spiritual harmony engulfing them both—but it was a very nice kiss. “This isn’t _less_ distracting,” Kylo protested, when Finn let him breathe, his hands fisting in the fabric of Finn’s shirt.    
  
“Oh my god,” Finn said, something like wonder in his voice. “Shut up. We’re trying it my way.” He kissed Kylo again—and again—kissed him until Kylo's mouth was swollen and tingling and his neck started to ache from bending down. “Come on,” Finn said, and pushed him onto his back, hands pressing Kylo's shoulders into the mattress. “You’re ridiculously tall,” he added while Kylo was panting too hard to defend himself, following him down.  
  
It was embarrassing to find that intimate, given that Kylo had just been in Finn’s mind, but he couldn’t help it—Finn blocked out the light, and Kylo felt sheltered and vulnerable under him. It made his chest tight and his limbs a little loose, his hands still clutching Finn’s shirt.  "Stop thinking so much,” Finn murmured, and pressed a kiss to Kylo’s cheek, to his jaw, to the curve of his neck.  
  
“Is that an order,” Kylo asked, absurdly, but it was worth it to see Finn smile, huge and a little mean.  
  
“Sure it is,” Finn said, and bit gently at Kylo’s pulse, which skyrocketed. “Yeah, it’s an order. You gonna listen?”  
  
Kylo lifted his head up to be kissed again, and pretended that the ugly thrill that shook through him was from anything besides obedience.  
  
“Come here,” Finn said again, a little breathless, and lay down on his side. Kylo felt something relax in his chest, scrambling to do what Finn wanted, letting Finn’s knee slide between his, letting Finn stroke up and down his back.  
  
When Finn reached down and took him in hand, it felt only natural to rock into his grip, his hands slipping up to Finn’s ribs, digging in. “Yeah,” Finn said, quiet, pleased, and Kylo made a humiliating sound into his shoulder.  
  
“How do you feel,” Finn asked a little later, his voice strained, his lips swollen and red, devastatingly lovely, Kylo trembling against him. “You feel good?”  
  
Kylo tried to answer, but Finn pressed his thumb against his lips, keeping his mouth closed. “No, don’t tell me,” he said, and did something clever with his other hand that made Kylo gasp and jerk into his palm. “Show me. Come on. Show me.”  
  
This time, it felt less like fumbling for something inside Finn’s mind than it did like throwing open a door into himself, letting Finn in. _Oh,_ Finn thought, and his presence sang through Kylo’s mind, clean and light and everything he’d denied himself, sweet and cold as snowmelt. _Here you are._  
  
_I’m here,_ Kylo agreed, mindlessly welcoming, every door in him flung wide open, begging to be known.  
  
“You're doing good,” Finn whispered, stroking a hand firmly down his spine, and Kylo shuddered. "You're good, Ben." Kylo choked on something like and not like outrage, and spent. Finn lasted thirty seconds longer, and then he was gasping openmouthed against Kylo’s neck, and Kylo shook some more.  
  
“There,” Finn panted, and gave a soft pat to Kylo’s chest, patronizing and infuriatingly welcome, fingers spreading over Kylo's rapidly beating heart. “Was that so hard?”  
  
“I hate you,” Kylo said, and laid his head down on Finn’s shoulder.  
  
“I know,” Finn said, and it came out almost tender.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm wildehack on tumblr, here for all your mindsex needs. Feedback, as always, is welcome. :)


End file.
